


Sometimes The Lights Get Too Bright

by calmlikesurrender



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:32:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmlikesurrender/pseuds/calmlikesurrender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're all pining for someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes The Lights Get Too Bright

Sometimes the lights get too bright and they’re blinding and the stage is a wide mouth, agape and consuming. Sometimes Niall thinks maybe it’s his own fault, maybe he’s not good enough, but then he reminds himself that the other guy isn’t so pure.

 

So maybe, Niall thinks, maybe he’s not the right kind of bad?

 

            Still the stage roars up… groans and reflects back the crowd’s screams, slams into his chest- because Harry slips his arm around Louis’ waist and he manages his solo with a grin all the way through like Louis’ hand on his lower back is an anchor instead of a steady trickle of poison into Niall’s veins.

 

            And Liam already sort of knows, so Niall tells him. Halfway through he breaks down. He doesn’t cry, he just- heaves. Like, he can’t quite catch his breath, and he knows how pathetic he must look, body wrecked and shaking, reaching out for a lifeline.

 

            Liam doesn’t say a word at first. He just holds him tight against his chest. And when Niall’s spent, when he pulls away, Liam puts his hand on his shoulder and he talks low and slow.

 

            “What do you want?” he says and Niall doesn’t even pause to breathe.

             “Him. I want  _him_.”

 

            But it’s not that simple. Niall knows. Liam knows. God, it seems like the whole fucking world knows.

            “Niall, I think he and Louis-”

 

            “I know,” he snaps back, even though he doesn’t mean to.

 

            It’s just that he hears it played over and over in his mind and he hears the words and they coat him and he can’t shake it. But he knows hearing them said, hearing Liam  _actually_  say it, will just be too much.

 

            “What do you need?” Liam asks, and Niall sighs.

 

            “Be there?”

           

            Which is the easiest slip and the slickest first step because there’s never just one victim. He aims for Harry’s head, dead center, and pulls the trigger. But Louis blocks his shot because he knows how much Harry means to Niall, but he’s not willing to give him up- not when Harry’s  _his._  Then there are the fly-aways, the shrapnel, plunging into Liam’s skin, nicking arteries. Niall’s his finally. And he’ll take that even if it’s by default.

            Then there’s Zayn soaking his dark skin in the blood pouring from Liam’s wounds. Zayn who watches them all with feigned ignorance. But his eyes stay trained on Liam, waiting for him to break, to have enough. So he can storm in, blazing and just  _warm_ , and be the hero like in some bad romantic comedy.

            He stands out in the biting night, grinding his teeth down, trying to avoid going back inside. Because he’s alone. Really alone. In the sort of way he never thought he’d despise. But watching Liam and Niall scurry off to Liam’s room was like a stab to the chest. And then Harry and Louis dodging glances, practically unzipping each other right there.

            He takes another deep drag and then puts his cigarette out. Squaring his shoulders, trying to gain the courage to face… whatever.

            “It’s alright, Niall,” Liam says, rubbing soothing circles into Niall’s back. When he feels goose bumps on his bare skin, he pulls the covers up closer around them.

            The steady pounding on the wall never fades, it’s background really to Niall’s headache. And he doesn’t have to listen hard to hear the desperate squeals coming from Louis’ throat. To make out Harry’s grunts, rocking him closer in just the other room.

            “Thanks,” Niall says, but he doesn’t mean it.

            “I’m here,” Liam says, because he knows.


End file.
